The Chaos Connection
by NightsDawne
Summary: FF8/FF7 Crossover: Shounen-ai/Slash. Ch 7: Sephiroth and Seifer recognize their feelings for each other, but will they get past their adversarial friendship to do anything about it?
1. Chaos

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne

[This little ficcie starts six months post-game for FF8 and two years post-game for FF7. GFs, Summon creatures, call them what you will they are not of this plane and the common link between every Final Fantasy world. What happens when they're needed in two places at once? Will Seifer find a power beyond that he is hoping for? Will Vincent and Sephiroth find a new beginning? Disclaimer: Squaresoft owns both FF7 and FF8 game characters. I've had some requests to make this slash, but at the moment I'm still undecided if I'll bring romance into the story or not. If it's really going to bother you if it turns that direction, you might want to hold off getting too involved in the storyline.]

* * *

Chapter 1: Chaos

The tall blond stared at the object lying in the wooden box in the display case of the pawn shop. A small charm made of silver-white metal, formed in the shape of a demon, wings wrapped around its body. He smirked to himself. Someone must have thought it was just jewelry, but he had been a student of Balamb Garden. He knew what it was. It was a guardian force charm, a link to a mystical being from another dimension. A guardian force was the key to true power, giving the one it protected the ability to cast magic as easily as a sorceress.

He had had his own guardian forces once, but they were all gone now, taken from him when he left Balamb Garden, when he'd betrayed everything he'd believed in to become a sorceress knight, fallen to the spell of a pretty face and the promise of power. It had all been a lie, of course. He'd been used. The sorceress was evil, bent on destroying the world, and he'd been a tool to help her. When she was defeated by the one who had been his rival at Balamb Garden, he'd lost even the lie. He was left with nothing but memories of what he had thrown away, the chance to become a SeeD mercenary, an elite fighter, respected. Nobody respected him now. A few pitied him, most reviled him. But here, lying in a pawn shop unrecognized, was the hope of regaining a little of what he had been.

Seifer looked over to the clerk. "I'll take that charm there."

The clerk walked over to the item, pulling it out of the case and setting it on top of the counter. "One hundred gil."

Seifer opened his wallet. "I've got seventy five."

The clerk started to put the box away. "Then come back when you have one hundred."

"Wait." Seifer reached up and took off the silver chain he wore around his neck. It had been a present from an old girlfriend. She was gone now, too. She belonged to his old rival. "Seventy five and this." He dropped the chain on the counter.

The clerk picked it up, examining it to make sure it was solid and not plate. He nodded, putting the box back down. "Deal."

Seifer laid down his money and palmed the box, walking out of the store. Here was not the place to call out the guardian force and find out what he had just purchased. He made his way toward the empty ampitheatre in the center of the city.

* * *

A chill wind lifted raven hair from the pale cheeks of the tall, slender figure that stood on the cliff, half a galaxy away from a failed SeeD cadet and his newfound hope. Ruby red eyes scanned the entrance to a cave, barely hindered by the darkness. That was where the dragon had vanished to. The man dropped his rifle down to swing loosely by his right leg as he made his way to the entrance, flipping a long red cloak away from his left arm. It barely resembled the limb it had replaced years ago, golden metallic plates cupped over each other from above his elbow down, ending in an articulated hand whose fingers were tipped with vicious and deadly claws. Then again, Vincent Valentine barely resembled what he had been years ago.

He still looked as if he were in his late twenties, although his chilling eyes and the death pallor of his skin had leant a sinister air to his delicate features. His hair had once been shorter, somewhat groomed, not the tangle of black locks that now swept to the middle of his back, bound carelessly with a strip of dark red cloth to keep it from interfering with his vision. In former days, over a quarter of a century ago, he had worn a dark blue suit, the uniform of a Turk, an expert in security, or rather, in the political definition of security. Truth would say more that he had been an assassin. Now he wore a black double breasted shirt and loose black pants, the sleeves of the shirt pushed up to his elbows to accomodate his gauntleted arm, a black fingerless glove on his shooting hand, his feet shod in steel-toed boots that illogically made no sound whatsoever. It was his nature to move silently, like a predator. It was also his nature to be alone, or had been for a long time.

He was fifty four, but he would never age, nor would he ever die. At least he wouldn't die a second time. He had once tasted oblivion, a thought that he avoided now, for down that path lay madness, but he had been human then. He had tried to end this existance he was now cursed to, revived from death but not exactly alive, tried it often enough to know it was futile. The beings that had accompanied him back from death refused to let their host go. They were sore company, four demons, but they kept their silence during his waking hours. Only when his existance was threatened would they emerge, transforming his body into one of theirs and eliminating with cruel efficiency whatever had harmed him, and only when he dreamed was he forced to face them himself.

He had come to terms with them over the last twenty-seven years. Half his life had been spent in their possession. They weren't evil, nor were they good. They simply were. He was no longer afraid of them, but seeing them only reminded him of what he no longer was, of how little that was human remained in him. He avoided facing them the way he avoided looking into mirrors, disgusted by the perfectly preserved animated corpse he saw reflected in them. He avoided people for much the same reason. Even those few who insistantly called themselves his friends had difficulty looking him in the eyes. Their nervous smiles as they tried unconvincingly to act as if he were normal only made it more painfully clear that he was not.

Only one understood him, the one he had rescued from certain death, one he had journeyed two years ago to kill. Sephiroth, like him, was a Jenova mutant, their bodies hybridized to a powerful alien being. Sephiroth, however, had been changed in utero, born with the maddening power of alien strength pouring through every cell of his being. Vincent remembered quite clearly what it was like to be an ordinary human, skilled with a gun, trained as a killer, but very much mortal. The only thing he couldn't recall vividly was emotion, although he knew he had once had it. It still lay somewhere deep within him, but untouched, untouchable. Sephiroth didn't seem to mind the cold exterior of the man he only half-jokingly called father. It was still unclear if his biological father had been Vincent or the mad scientist Hojo who had changed both of them to what they were now, but the Jenova mutants had more in common than the silver haired warrior had ever shown with the scientist. Vincent allowed him to call him what he wished. He had, after all, loved the youth's mother, and in his own way he took care of Sephiroth as if he were his son.

It had been while Vincent was locked away in a cryonic coffin that Sephiroth had fallen victim to Jenova's lure for consuming victory. Her own body a useless corpse, she had taken over the one available to her when Sephiroth had stumbled into contact with her. She had driven him insane, using his altered power to nearly destroy the entire world in an effort to steal all vitality unto herself. Vincent had joined the small group of heroes that had determined to stop Sephiroth. As humans they had almost failed. Sephiroth had evolved under Jenova's influence to a being of near invincibility that with a single blow nearly destroyed Vincent's companions. Vincent had almost believed he would die again, but his demons refused to give up as easily as human flesh would. Chaos, the most powerful of the demons, had erupted, striking the final blow that had severed Sephiroth into two creatures, the soul possessed by Jenova and a confused young man with no memory of the past five years of his maddened campaign of violence.

It was the latter Vincent had rescued, secreting him away from the others lest they attack him, hiding him from a society scarred by his attacks, nurturing him through the trauma of guilt over what had almost occurred at his hands if not at his will. Vincent understood guilt. It was an emotion he couldn't shake, couldn't overcome by any deed. He understood Sephiroth, and the young man understood him. Two immortals, banished from heaven and hell, unable to escape a world that was frightened of them. Sephiroth gave him a reason for his existance if nothing else, and another voice besides those of the demons.

_Father?_

Vincent stopped in the darkness of the cavern, only his thought required to respond to the other voice, a link of their Jenova genetics. _Yes?_

_Just wanted to make sure you were alright. You haven't checked in since you left._

Vincent was slightly amused by the note of worry in Sephiroth's thoughts. _It's only a dragon._

_I should have come with you._

_You were asleep. Don't worry about me. _Vincent gazed through the shadows, his acute hearing easily picking up the scrape of scales over stone. _I'll be home soon._

_I don't know why I should worry about you. You like trying to get yourself killed. It's your hobby._ Sephiroth's worry eased into a touch of humor. Another thing he and Vincent shared was a sense of the morbid being amusing. Perhaps it was a natural part of being immortal.

_A man can dream, can't he?_ Vincent walked toward his prey, the massive creature turning as it sensed something else in the cavern. Vincent almost smiled, imagining the monster sizing him up as a meal as it had three of the villagers who lived in the shadow of the mountains so close to the run-down mansion he and Sephiroth called home. He heard a snort as the dragon turned to face him, seeing him through pitch darkness with infrared vision that surpassed even his own heightened senses. It would be entertaining, single-handed combat against a beast that could usually withstand half a regiment of soldiers, protected by its dense armored scales. Chaos had been restless lately, anyhow. Battle would serve as a safe release for the demon's violent hunger. Vincent didn't even bother to call up any protective magic as the dragon lifted its head, prepared to unleash firey breath.

_Be careful, father. I know what your dreams are like._

_

* * *

_

Seifer made his way into the center of the ampitheatre, only moonlight guiding him. He opened the box, taking out the charm and holding it in his palm for a few silent moments, sensing the power of the guardian force. He could feel the tingle of its strength like tiny shocks on his skin, a surge of resistance to him. It was not a force that would be harnessed willingly. He smiled in satisfaction as he hoisted his weapon in his other hand, the dark gunblade Hyperion. It would want a fight, proof of his worth. The thought gave him even more pleasure than the unexpected find.

Seifer held the charm out at arm's length. "Guardian Force! I summon you!"

A rustling of wings led Seifer's eyes to the creature that answered his call, a mere outline of black, barely visible even by moonlight. "Who dares to command me as if they were my master?" The voice was a low, reverberating growl, glowing red eyes betraying the creature's location clearly as they opened, fastened on the young man.

Seifer flipped his gunblade up to ready position, held outright, his stance fearless, a smirk on his lips. "My name is Seifer Almasy. Do you accept my command?"

The guardian force snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, hovering several feet off the ground. "You're overconfident, child. You have no magic, even."

Seifer's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a child. Let's get on with it."

"Very well." The demon spread his wings, a growling chuckle escaping him as he raised his hand, a massive sword forming as his fist closed around the hilt. "Meet your judgement, Seifer Almasy."

Seifer sucked in his breath, bracing his feet to take the charge. Moonlight glinted off the blade of the sword as it was swung over the demon's head, then released, flying at the blond youth's chest. Seifer prepared to block, but was shocked when the sword split into thousands of unstoppable shards like razor blades, ripping into his flesh, the force sending him reeling back. He dropped to one knee, blinded by blood from hundreds of cuts to his face.

"Had enough? Or do you wish your death?" The demon crossed his arms again.

"Neither." Seifer closed his eyes, focusing as he struggled to his feet, raising the gunblade again, using sound as his guidance as he spun in and slashed into one of the unfurled wings of the demon. With expert timing he squeezed the trigger of the gunblade, fire erupting, giving the demon a taste of pain as well, eliciting a growl of displeasure from the guardian force.

The demon floated back, away from the young man. "Hrmph. You are either brave or stupid. But time for play is over." He raised both hands. "SATAN SLAM!" The demon threw his hands forward, the ground lifting violently under Seifer's feet, knocking him to his knees once more. Seifer instinctively curled to protect himself as what seemed to be the very fires of hell wraped around him, searing his flesh. The fires ended, but before he could even be grateful to survive heavy objects slammed against him in a seemingly endless rain. He screamed in agony, a desperate rush of adreneline pumping through him, willing him to survive.

Seifer stood. "I won't die today!" He spun his gunblade in his hand, green energy arcing from the blade. The demon drew back, surprised by the strength of the human. Seifer opened his eyes, his vision blurred by blood and pain. "Demon Slice!" Blue light circled him, drawn into his blade, then exploded towards the demon, rolling the guardian force back several feet, his claws scraping the ground as he took the full force of the attack. Seifer slumped, determined to live but unable to do anything to save himself. One more blow from the powerful demon would end him.

The demon closed his uninjured wing around his body as he dropped to the ground, his clawed feet somewhat awkward to stand on. "You are no ordinary human, child. You have survived both my saber and my judgement, and inflicted damage to me as well. I am impressed by you."

Seifer lifted his head, gasping for breath. "I'm pretty impressed myself. You'd be a strong ally."

The demon chuckled drily. "As would you. I will join forces with you, Seifer Almasy." He threw his wings out, fully healed, then cast curative magic on Seifer.

Seifer smiled as his wounds closed, leaving only faint scars. "What's your name?"

The demon rose into the air once more. "I am the demon of judgement, he who divides soul from flesh. I am unending, immortal, the darkness in every saint and the light in every sinner. My name is Chaos."


	2. Crossing

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne 

* * *

Chapter 2: Crossing

Vincent fired his rifle, Death Penalty, the bullet carrying with it the elemental power of a fully matured ice materia stone. It struck the dragon in the throat, stopping its flaming breath as it reeled back, roaring in pain. Vincent chambered another bullet, his steady eye and inhuman strength allowing him to easily aim the rifle one-handed. The wounded and enraged dragon lowered its head, eyes blazing in the darkness as it regathered itself to throw its flame. Vincent fired again, the bullet a moment late, rocketting through the wall of flame to strike its target even as Vincent closed his eyes, not even bracing himself against the pain of the fire as it washed over him.

He gave no cry as his mind registered the sensation of his skin curling and peeling against the unbearable heat, the sickly sweet smell of his own burning flesh, the roaring sound of the flames around him. He had suffered such injuries so many times it had become a matter of clinical analysis rather than experience. He suffered a mortal injury, but he was immortal. His part in this fight was over. His body never even fell, it simply became immaterial, golden light sucking him away from consciousness as his protector from beyond the realm of the human came to take his place.

* * *

Seifer stood, swinging Hyperion back to its place at his side. "Very well, Chaos." He held his palm out towards the demon. "We are joined." The air crackled as he drew the demon into his mind, giving it place in his thoughts to complete the merger. He felt it curl into him like a searing bolt of lightning but held his ground, unflinching, letting the transfer become complete. Without warning the air seemed to split around him. _Chaos?!_

_I am.. here.. I cannot seperate now lest I kill you, but I cannot stay._

_What's happening, Chaos? I've junctioned with guardian forces before, but-- _Seifer's panicked thoughts were cut off by a sudden sense of being pulled. He desperately tried to resist it. _CHAOS?!_

_I am summoned._

Seifer felt himself tumbling through a void. Stars and worlds spun around him as intense cold drove into his flesh. It lasted less than a second, half a heartbeat. Blinding green light surrounded him and the cold vanished, leaving him floating in a stream of energy that knocked him about like a piece of debris. _Chaos! Where am I?_

He closed his eyes, seeing a dragon before him in his mind, watching as Chaos's saber shattered into it. The saber was immediately followed by the Satan Slam. He saw what he had been unable to during his own battle with the demon, the earth rising under the dragon in the shape of a skull, smoke and flame wreathing out of the eyes and mouth. The dragon collapsed in instant death, flaming skulls raining down on its lifeless corpse. Seifer swallowed, realizing how close he had come to meeting the same fate.

As the vision faded he struggled to figure out what had happened. The guardian forces were not from his world, he knew. Chaos had said he was summoned. Had he been summoned by someone on another world just at the same moment as he was making the bond with Seifer? In such a tenuous state it was conceivable that Seifer had been dragged with the demon to answer the call, but it still didn't answer the question of where he was and why he wasn't with Chaos. When summoned the guardian forces would wrap their joined humans in the protection of their dimension, but this was nothing like the void he was used to experiencing. This was very much something, an energy he could sense, could feel and see, and hear.

Seifer opened his eyes again, realizing there were voices all around him. He struggled to make out the words. They seemed to echo and ebb. "What? I can't understand you." Anger. They were angry with him, with his intrusion. He didn't belong there. "I didn't come here on my own, damnit! I don't even know where I am!" _Chaos!_

_I am here again, Seifer. You cannot stay here._

Seifer felt a wave of anger wash over him. _Where the fuck is here? I'll leave if you just show me how!_

_You are in the Lifestream. It is not meant for those whose souls still reside in living flesh._

_Whatever. Get me out._

Chaos chided Seifer without words, merely a mental growl. _Extend your mind toward me. I cannot enter the Lifestream myself. You must come quickly, though. The energy around you is poison to living flesh._

Seifer closed his eyes, concentrating on Chaos's thoughts, mentally drawing himself closer to the demon. He felt himself rushing upwards, the energy becoming less and less intense around him. His head broke above it and he threw his hand up, reaching for anything solid. A clawed hand grasped his, yanking him free. Cold air, humid and smelling of stone, gave him the impression of a cavern before a sickening wave of nausea swept over him. He felt himself lowered gently to hard stone. _Help me, Chaos. I can feel the poison now. I can't move._

_No mere spell can help you, child. It is beyond me._

Seifer slipped into unconsciousness as the energy coursed through his body.

* * *

Vincent stumbled as his body was returned to him, something at his feet. He was several hundred feet from the point where he had been taken over by Chaos, which in itself was odd. Usually the demons returned him to the exact spot where he had been injured. He could feel his body regenerating, feeding on the energy of the demons. He would be healed in a matter of minutes.

He crouched down to see what was in front of him, his hand touching warm skin. His felt for a neck, finding a pulse under his sensitive fingertips, but one that betrayed little life. He frowned, then concentrated, drawing energy from his materia stones to cast a cure spell.

_That won't help him, Vincent._

Vincent furrowed his brow. It was seldom that his demons disturbed him while he was awake. _What is it then, Chaos?_

_Mako energy poisoning._ The demon of judgement, usually as unemotional as his host, had a tone of concern. _Help him._

_...I'm not a doctor. Even if I was there would be little that I could do._

_Help him,_ insisted the demon, his thoughts taking on a growl. _You know what can save his life. The scientist used mako to make his Soldiers, just as he used mako on you and on the child you protect._

_You ask me to interfere with another human, to play God as Hojo did?_

Chaos hissed his anger in Vincent's mind. _He is here because you summoned me as I was on his world, bonding with him. Will you save his life or will you have his blood on your hands, Vincent Valentine? _Vincent closed his eyes, seeing the images of a young man torn from his world as Chaos replayed them for his mind. The demon's anger was palpable. _He is dying as we argue the point. Help him or you will see his death every time you close your eyes. Yet another nightmare added to those you already face._

_Silence! I need no more guilt, Chaos._ Vincent lifted the limp body of the young man with his clawed gauntlet, scarcely straining at his weight as he draped him over his shoulder. Hanging his rifle at his side, he turned swift and silent footsteps toward home.

Sephiroth walked out of the kitchen as he heard the front door of the mansion open and close. "Welcome back, father. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this. Try this spaghetti sauce and tell me what.. you.. think...." He trailed off as he caught sight of Vincent, a stranger over his shoulder. "What happened?"

Vincent carried the young man up the stairs to one of the guest rooms. "He's dying of mako poisoning."

Sephiroth trailed after the dark-haired man, dripping sauce from the spoon in his hand. "Mako poisoning? What exactly are you planning to do?" Vincent didn't reply immediately, dropping his burden on a bed. Sephiroth stepped into the room, putting the spoon down on the dresser to help out. Vincent was gentle, but somewhat hindered by having only one hand. Sephiroth lifted the young man's head to tuck a pillow under it. "Father?"

Vincent stepped back, letting Sephiroth take care of their comatose guest. "I can't do anything. My condition could kill him as surely as the mako. You will need to provide him with what he needs."

Sephiroth looked up at Vincent sharply. "Make him a Soldier? Father, I thought you were morally opposed to tampering with humans."

Vincent raised his glowing red eyes to Sephiroth's vibrant green ones. "He will die otherwise. I do not want the blood of another innocent on my hands."

"What do you mean?"

Vincent turned away. "I have no time to explain now. He's dying, Sephiroth. Do it or don't."

"It could kill him, you know, father. It could make him a mindless monster in a mutated body. Or leave him like it did Cloud, with his mind fractured. Not everyone is strong enough to survive the making."

"I know the risks. Chaos assures me he is more than strong enough." Vincent looked over his shoulder at the young man on the bed. "Are you going to save him?"

Sephiroth studied Vincent's face for a moment. He owed this man so much. His life, his sanity, his only safe refuge in this world now. He gave a bare nod as he stood, walking out of the room. "I'll try."

Vincent examined the features of the young man now that he was visible by normal light. He was barely a man, perhaps younger than Sephiroth, but many younger than that had been made into Soldiers. Cloud had been no more than fifteen or sixteen, but although he had survived the procedure, he had been left shattered, unfit to serve as a true Soldier, yet still powerful enough to lead the resistance against the possessed Sephiroth.

He appeared physically strong enough, muscular, well-conditioned, although his clothes were shredded by recent battle. Whatever wounds he had suffered had been healed, even the scars beginning to fade, leaving only one long scar on his forehead, a much older wound. He was human, yet an alien. Chaos had said he was from another world. He looked nothing like an alien with his short blond hair, high cheekbones and forehead, holding a certain beauty, albeit an entirely masculine one. He could easily pass for one from this world but for the curious weapon still attached to his belt. It appeared to be a blend of both automatic handgun and sword. Vincent was acutely familiar with all kinds of weapons, but he had never seen anything remotely like the black blade with the pistol grip.

Vincent looked to the door as Sephiroth returned, the younger immortal carrying Masamune, his deadly sword. It was of a length that would be ungainly in any hands but the Jenova mutant's. He handled it as if it were merely an extension of himself, the way Vincent handled a rifle with only his one good hand. Sephiroth avoided Vincent's eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed, flipping the blade over so that it faced upwards. He swallowed once, exhaled slowly, then drew his wrist over the razor sharp edge, crimson flowing to stain the bright silver metal. Moving the sword out of the way, Sephiroth leaned forward, placing his cut wrist to the lips of the comatose man, letting his blood flow into his mouth through slightly parted lips. After a few moments he pulled it back, whispering a cure spell from his materia to close the wound.

"Now, we wait." Sephiroth tucked a strand of loose silver hair behind his ear. "He won't wake up for hours if he makes it."

"He'll make it." Vincent strode from the room silently.

Sephiroth gazed after the man he called father, not even willing to hazard a guess as to the thoughts in the older man's mind and knowing intuitively that any intrusion on them would be unwelcome at this time. He sighed and laid Masamune gently on the floor to tend to their guest, standing to fetch a washcloth and basin from the bathroom. Dinner would be late, if Vincent bothered to show at all.


	3. Soldier

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne 

* * *

Chapter 3: Soldier

Worlds came and faded around Seifer. Strange faces, knights in armor, fantasy figures with bows and arrows, strange creatures he could only assume were guardian forces he'd never known the existance of. He found himself in battles, kings, theives, sorcerers warring against powerful beings trying to destroy their worlds. A laughing maniac with a painted face, seated atop a throne of living monsters, a monster of beige smoke and tendrils with a cruel face, a multi-winged angel with flowing silver hair who hurled stars as if they were toys, a glowing machine comprised of sentient orbs. Names flashed through his mind. Kefka, X-Death, Sephiroth, Deus. The last fascinated him, battled by what seemed to be giant robots, transposed with celestial images, two angels and a demon warring with a false god. _Zenogais._ The meaningless word echoed through his mind as that world, too, faded into nothingness. He was at the edge of death.

Seifer heard a familiar laugh, a cruel, harsh sound, and turned to face the sorceress whose magic had possessed him when she, too, had sought world destruction. Ultimecia, the time sorceress. Was this his judgement, that he would be condemned to her in death for being too weak to stop her in life? It seemed fitting, but still his mind rebelled against the thought of death. He had fought too long and too hard to give up. He still had a dream. Ultimecia extended her hand to him, reaching across the abyss that seperated them. Seifer shook his head, gathering his will, fighting for every moment of life. _I will not die today._

_You're not dead yet. But you're going to have to make the choice to live._

Seifer spun at the other voice. A man stood behind him, silver hair cascading to his waist, his green eyes glowing against the darkness. Although the wings were gone, Seifer recognized the face from the earlier visions. _Sephiroth. You were one of the evils. Why should I trust you?_

_I was used, like you were. It was Jenova, not me, Seifer. That part of me is gone now. I'm trying to save your life._

Seifer lifted his chin, then looked behind him at Ultimecia, beckoning him toward her. He clenched his teeth in rebellion and turned his eyes back to Sephiroth. _I won't let anyone own me again._

Sephiroth smiled softly. _I don't want to own anyone. Are you going to live?_

Seifer nodded, reaching for Sephiroth's outstretched hand. Worlds collided, a cosmos in chaos, then nothing. Seifer awoke from the dream.

"Don't try to move just yet. We almost lost you there."

Seifer opened his eyes, glancing to the man sitting on the bed, still holding his hand tightly. "Sephiroth?"

"Yes." Sephiroth let go of Seifer's hand to push his long hair from his shoulder. "How are you feeling, Seifer?"

"Like shit." Seifer raised a hand to his face, rubbing his scar. "Where am I?"

Sephiroth chuckled. "Um, my father's mansion. We don't get many visitors."

Seifer sat up slowly. "And who's your father?"

"Vincent Valentine. He'll show up when he's ready to."

Seifer grunted noncommitally at the unfamiliar name and looked down at his body. "Where are my clothes?"

"There wasn't much left of them. I brought some of mine for you to borrow for now." Sephiroth nodded toward the neatly folded pile of black cloth at the foot of the bed. "I'll go heat you up some dinner while you get dressed."

Seifer furrowed his brow as the other man left the room. His eyes still glowed, just like in the dream. It wasn't human looking at all, even if the rest of him appeared perfectly normal, no wings, nothing out of the ordinary. He shrugged, adding it to the growing list of mysteries about everything that had happened after he junctioned to Chaos, then reached for the clothes. Fairly nondescript. The pants were of a lightweight cotton, black, loose fitting, the shirt was just a plain black tee shirt. He got them on, more interested in the promise of food than anything else. He was starving.

Seifer took a closer look at his environment. He smirked slightly at Sephiroth's use of the word mansion. Faded wallpaper showed a good many tears that exposed cracks in the plaster it covered. The floors might once have been highly polished, but the wood hadn't seen wax in a long enough period that the boards were warped and uneven. It was clean and the furniture, if spare, was antique and expensive looking, but had undergone as much neglect as the rest of the room. The large bay window looked out onto what might have once been a garden but was now simply an overgrown wilderness, cast in shadow by the high craggy mountains beyond it, the sun struggling to clear their peaks.

He turned back to the room itself, listening to the creaks and groans that announced age in the house as clearly as the worn structure. The door Sephiroth had gone through was halfway open, revealing an open balcony and the top of a double set of spiral staircases. Another door was off to his right, a steady dripping giving away the bathroom beyond it. Seifer's blood had been cleaned away, so he didn't need to wash, but curiosity and the surreal events sparking a desire to splash some cold water over his face led him to open the peeling door and step inside.

He fumbled to find a switch on the wall. When he turned on the light, it exposed porcelain stained with age, no sense of the modern disturbing the setting. A pedestal sink was the source of the dripping, a chipped gold faucet leaking steadily into it. An old-fashioned toilet with a high tank and a chain for flushing perched beyond it, the opposite wall dominated by a large tub with clawed feet. Seifer ran his hand through his hair, chuckling to himself at the thought that seeing this place at night would likely add the modifier haunted before the word mansion. Not that he believed in ghosts or goblins, but the entire thing seemed to be a movie set for a gothic horror flick. He heard the stairs protest use as Sephiroth made his way up them again and stepped over to the sink.

The water was cold, like ice when he got the nearly rusted fixtures turned on. The hot water tap was hopelessly rusted and merely broke off in his hand when he forced it. With a sigh he put his hands under the chilly flow and bent his head down, cupping water in his hands and then bringing it to his face. The dreamlike feel of the old house broke with the freezing sting, giving him a refreshing and sharp sense of reality. He sucked in his breath as he stood again, shaking out his hair as his eyes fell on the tarnished mirror that hung over the sink. The face that reflected back at him shocked him even more than the water.

It was his face, right down to the scar that ran from his forehead, across the bridge of his nose and down to the inside of his cheekbone. Every feature was familiar to him, but where he was used to seeing eyes of a steely blue with hints of green sometimes brought out by firelight, he now saw irises of a firey aqua, glowing with inhuman intensity. It was the same effect he had noted in Sephiroth, although the silver-haired man's eyes were a pure green, like sunlight forcing itself through spring leaves. Seifer stepped back from the reflection, shaking his head, his brow furrowed.

"Seifer?" Sephiroth set down the tray on the bed, leaning over to see around the open bathroom door. "Are you alright?"

Seifer frowned, walking out of the bathroom. "What happened to me?"

Sephiroth tucked his hair behind his ear. "I don't know all of it. What specifically do you want to know? I'll do my best to answer."

"Why are my eyes like yours?!" Seifer clenched a fist in frustration with the number of other questions he had.

Sephiroth took a deep breath. "It's a side effect of the mako energy. You were dying when my father brought you here. The only way I could save your life was to make you a Soldier."

"What kind of Soldier? I'm not going to fight for anyone."

Sephiroth sighed. "Not like that. Calm down, will you? I'll try to explain." He waited until Seifer had relaxed somewhat, the blond sitting down on the bed and looking at him with a hint of threat in his expectant expression. "Remember that I told you that I was used, that it was Jenova, not me?"

Seifer furrowed his brow. "In the dream, you mean?"

Sephiroth nodded. "It wasn't exactly a dream, but that would be a completely different explanation. Jenova was an alien. Something called a Wave being. We really don't know much about them, even now, except that they're from a completely different dimension, like summon creatures, only they're not like them. She was some kind of rogue and millenia ago she was killed and buried on this world, before there was any life here."

"What does this have to do with me?"

Sephiroth chuckled. "You're not very patient, are you. Just listen?" Sephiroth sat down on the other side of the bed from Seifer. "Apparently they didn't completely finish the job when they executed her. Eventually the planet gained life, and humans in time. Some of those humans became scientists, and some of those scientists discovered Jenova's body. So, naturally, they decided to study it. And naturally, one of those scientists was a madman and decided to take some of the cells of Jenova that had survived and put them in human beings."

"Naturally." Seifer leaned forward a bit, interested in spite of himself.

"Only two survived his experiments. That would be my father and me. Our circumstances were.. um, unique when we were hybridized. After a while, however, he discovered a way to cheaply mimic a similar effect to create a race of superhumans, or at least that was what he called them. He exposed humans to deadly amounts of mako energy from points where it erupts from the Lifestream to the surface, and then exposed them to small amounts of Jenova cells. They didn't exactly become hybrids, but they did become powerful, the ones that survived it. The government he worked for used them as an elite fighting force, the Soldiers."

"What happened to them?"

Sephiroth ran his finger over the bedspread. "There's only one other besides you who's still alive. He didn't fully make it, not in the way Hojo and Shinra wanted. He went sort of mental, but in the end it saved him because I couldn't command him the way I did the others after Jenova took me over."

Seifer raised a brow. "Wait, you command Soldiers? And you made me one?!" He stood up, anger flashing in his glowing eyes. "To hell with that! I'm not going to be anyone's slave!"

Sephiroth held up his hands placatingly. "I don't intend to do anything to you, least of all command. I don't think I can anymore anyhow. Not now that Jenova's gone."

Seifer frowned. "So what does it mean, then? Other than looking like this."

"You'll have increased strength over ordinary humans. I can contact your mind, but don't worry, I don't plan on invading your thoughts. I can tell you're someone who likes his privacy." Sephiroth pushed a rebellious strand of silver from his eyes. "I really don't know what will happen, exactly. You weren't given Jenova's cells directly. The corpse was destroyed, along with all the samples."

"So where did it come from?"

"Me." Sephiroth shrugged with a slight smile. "My cells are only half alien, but it seems to have done the trick."

Seifer sank back down on the bed, trying to absorb all of the new information. "I don't feel any different than before." He reached for the glass of wine on the tray Sephiroth had brought, picking it up, then frowned as it shattered in his grip.

Sephiroth grabbed the napkin, wiping Seifer's hand off. "You'll get used to it in time. Your brain is still thinking your former strength. Try a light touch with things until you have the hang of it." He smiled. "At least you didn't cut yourself."

Seifer rubbed his temple. "I'm going to wake up from this, I know it."

"It's got to be hard. It's not like you asked for any of this and all of a sudden it's being dropped on you." Sephiroth propped his chin on his hand. "It was hard enough for me when I just missed five years of what was going on on my own world. And for my father, missing out on five times that much, the whole world changing while he slept. But for you, it really is a whole different world."

Seifer picked up the fork and started twirling pasta onto it. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather be back on my world."

Sephiroth nodded. "Understandable. If there's a way to get you back, we'll find it, alright?" He stood, walking for the door. "For right now, eat, relax, rest up. You'll think better when you're feeling better."

Seifer furrowed his brow, watching Sephiroth leave. Jenova, Wave, hybrids, soldiers.. whatever this world was, it was like the Lunatic Pandora had taken over the planet and, at least for the moment, he was stuck with it.


	4. Connection

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne 

* * *

Chapter 4: Connection

Seifer tried to tread as lightly as possible on the old floorboards, but he wasn't exactly used to stealth. It just wasn't his style to hide from anything. Still, he winced as the ancient wood let out a creak. He had eaten, and rested, but relaxing was out of the question. After napping as long as he could possibly stand, he had decided to set out and explore the house. Now, walking through the cobweb filled conservatory, he was beginning to wish he'd chosen to have a look around before sunset. Electricity seemed to work only randomly in most of the upstairs and the candle he was using to guide him only leant a more gothic air to the shadows. It was the kind of house that played tricks on one's mind. The word haunted came even more easily with no sunlight to chase it away.

Something rustled in the shadows and Seifer started, holding the candle out to get a look at whatever boogeyman was about to attack him. Tiny beady eyes twinkled at him from a bookcase shelf and he burst out laughing at his own fear, realizing he'd been scared by a mouse. "Get ahold of yourself, Almasy. It's just a creepy old house. No need to act like a chicken."

Seifer strode less cautiously towards the door on the other side of the room, letting the floors protest as loudly as they wished. He wasn't about to let the house get to him again. He made his way through a tangle of dead foilage in the arboretum, then back out to the balcony. He leaned over the railing a bit to see if he could locate Sephiroth or perhaps even his elusive father. After a moment of listening he glimpsed Sephiroth walking out of the library, a book in hand, engrossed in reading as he ate an apple. Seifer grinned to himself a bit. The more he got to see of him, the less he could believe that the silver-haired man was the multi-winged planet killer he had glimpsed in his vision. It was hard to even picture him as a warrior.

Seifer turned his attention back to the upstairs rooms, walking to a new door. He opened it, stepping into a small room. With little hope of success he tried the light switch on the wall. With a slight buzz of energy a single bare bulb flashed to life on the ceiling, forcing Seifer to squint as his eyes adjusted. The room was hardly interesting in and of itself, unfurnished, but something caught Seifer's attention in the fireplace. He crouched down and discovered that the back wall was slightly ajar, revealing a hidden passage. He pressed his hand to the brick and it slid open even further, a set of stairs revealed by the light from the room. Now here was something that might be of interest. Seifer crawled through without hesitating, standing up again in a small circular room, spiral stairs winding down the walls.

Seifer glanced back at the passage he had come through, then took a deep breath that he instantly regretted. The air reeked of bat droppings. "Pleasant," he muttered to himself before starting down the stairs. The lack of a rail or anything to keep him from plunging into the darkness if he made a misstep was the only thing that gave him caution in his descent.

After walking down enough stairs that he was convinced he must be at least fifty feet below ground, the stairs ended at a wooden door. It stood ajar, torchlight flickering from sconces on the walls of the rough hewn passage beyond it. The old man must be down here, Seifer thought. It took hardly a second for his curiosity to overcome any worries about intruding on his host. Seifer blew out his candle, sticking it in his pants pocket as he entered the passage. Whatever bats called this place home had already flown for the evening, but the floor was littered with skeletons of those who had perished over the years. He kicked a skeleton aside and continued on. A few uninteresting wooden doors led off to either side. He considered opening them, but when he tried one he found it locked, so he walked on to the open door at the end.

Stepping through, he found himself in a richly appointed library. Books filled not only the shelves, but most every available surface. Several were in disorganized stacks on the floor. He walked to the center of the room, but there was no sign of Sephiroth's mysterious father. Slightly disappointed, Seifer turned to a desk on one side of the room, an open tome laying on it. He glanced back at the door. If anyone came along the passage he would surely hear them. Nothing could make it thorugh there without some sort of echo. He ran his hand through his hair and leaned over to read from the book.

At first it seemed completely uninteresting. Some sort of scientific journal. Then he spotted the word Jenova and started to pay more attention.

_I at last have my opportunity to expand the Jenova Project to more useful applications. The experiment with the monkey embryo showed such success that I am ready to proceed with a similar test with a human embryo. Lucy is pregnant and has agreed to be my test subject. Together we will advance the human race beyond anything it has been before. She will be the mother of the first superhuman child, and I will be its creator. The only difficulty, now that Gast has been taken out of the picture, will be that meddling Turk. What business a security officer has in science is beyond me. He refuses to simply do his job and keep us undisturbed, insisting on talking to Lucy daily about her work. His feelings for her are obvious. I would dispose of him if I thought he understood the least bit of what she tells him, but I am confident he only asks to have excuse to hear her voice, the romantic twit. So long as he doesn't distract her from her work and keeps her from becoming bored and requesting reassignment elsewhere, I suppose he shall_

"What do you think you are doing?" Seifer spun around, having heard not a single whisper from the passage and knowing for certain that no doors had opened or closed, but the voice behind him had nothing of shock value compared to the speaker. He was the same height as Seifer, with a somewhat lighter build, but everything else about him made the hairs rise on the back of Seifer's neck. His skin was tinged with yellowish gray, almost like that of a wax figure or a corpse drained of blood. Black clothes fitted loosely to his body, the only color to his garb the dark red cloak that hung about his shoulders. Black hair hung in unkempt tangles around his face, several strands falling into it unheeded, poking through a carelessly wrapped red sash around the man's forehead. Where his left arm should have been was a monstrosity of a gauntlet, golden metal plates ending in a vicious looking talon. His eyes, however, sent chills down Seifer's spine. They glowed the same way his and Sephiroth's did, only their color was even more unnatural, crimson, like lit rubies. The man took note of Seifer's shocked silence by narrowing his gaze and repeating his question. "What do you think you are doing?"

Seifer cleared his throat, finding his voice. "I was reading. Shit, how did you get in here without me hearing you?"

"I didn't know I should announce my presence in my own home." The man took a silent step toward Seifer.

Seifer unconsciously pressed back against the desk. He didn't like being unnerved and this man was nothing if not unnerving. He clenched his teeth, determined to take charge of the situation. "What are you, some kind of vampire?"

The man stopped, raising one brow. "No."

Seifer paused, unsure if there was going to be anything further, but the man just stood there. "Well what then?!"

The man hesitated, then shrugged. "I am.. myself. I haven't cared for any of the labels others have fixed on me."

"You're fucking creepy."

A faint hint of a smile crossed the pale lips of the man. "At least you come out and say it. Most try to pretend I'm not."

"I'm not most people." Seifer forced himself to study the man's face, trying to overcome the shock of his appearance. He held out his hand. "I'm Seifer Almasy."

The man looked down at the hand, then took it in a surprisingly strong grip, his skin cool to the touch even through the leather palm of his shooting glove. "Vincent Valentine."

"Sephiroth's father? You don't look old enough."

"One shoudn't judge by appearances." Vincent reached into his shirt pocket to remove a pack of cigarrettes and a lighter. "Age, like reality, is a relative thing."

"Not where I'm from. We tend to be pretty linear about physical maturation."

Vincent chuckled softly as he lit his cigarrette, then offered one to Seifer, giving him the lighter as well when he accepted. "You've a quick mind for someone your age. How old are you? Twenty?"

Seifer lit his cigarrette and handed the lighter back. "Nineteen."

"And how old would you guess I am?"

Seifer shrugged. "If I didn't know you had a son older than I am? I'd guess maybe twenty-five to thirty."

Vincent nodded. "I was twenty-seven when Sephiroth was born. That was twenty-seven years ago."

"I'd say you look damn good for your age, but, frankly? You look dead."

Vincent broke into a dry laugh. "Not afraid of speaking your mind, are you. No wonder Chaos likes you."

Seifer leaned forward. "You know Chaos? You're the one who summoned him, aren't you. You're the reason I'm here. Where is he? I haven't heard from him since he pulled me out of the soup."

"I didn't necessarily summon him, no. He comes of his own free will, for his own protection as well as mine. He's here."

Seifer furrowed his brow. "Here where?"

Vincent tapped his temple. "He's joined to me, permanently inseperable."

"You're junctioned to him, too. Yeah, I know that."

Vincent frowned. "Junctioned?"

"You gave him space in your brain in return for him giving you magic and coming when you call. Same thing as me."

Vincent shook his head. "He doesn't give me magic and I don't call him. If I am about to die, he comes. They won't let me perish lest they perish themselves."

"Auto-summon. That's a skill I haven't ever heard of." Seifer scratched his jaw. "No magic, hmm?"

"Not from the demons. I cast from materia, the same as anyone else who uses magic here." Vincent unhooked his rifle from his belt, lifting it and turning it to expose a series of slotted holes in the stock, filled with small glowing stones. "It's formed from the same mako energy that almost killed you."

Seifer reached out his hand to touch the stones. "I can feel it. And this is how you cast spells?"

Vincent nodded. "How do you do it?"

"If you have a guardian force like Chaos, you just tell them to draw the spell from something else that has magic and they store it for you. You can use it to cast or for protection, add it to your weapon's attack, whatever you feel like doing. I guess it doesn't work that way here, just like I can't hear Chaos in my head now."

Vincent shrugged. "It's just as well. It's a rather disturbing thought that someone can just snap their fingers and summon one of my demons. I've become rather accustomed to having them all to myself. Perhaps it is simply that he cannot speak to you while he is trapped in me. He spoke to you when I transformed to him, didn't he?"

Seifer nodded. "Yeah. I guess it makes sense." He took a drag off his cigarrette. "Still, if I don't need him to cast magic..." He smiled slowly. "Since you brought me here, Valentine, how about you show me how to use that materia?"

Vincent raised a brow, then walked over to a bookcase, retrieving a thick volume. "Here."

Seifer held his hand out for the book. "What's this?"

"A text on materia. Read that and get back to me." Vincent strode from the room, his cloak falling around his shoulders, his steel encased feet offering not a hint of sound.

Seifer shook his head, not quite sure he hadn't imagined the strange encounter but for the book in his hands. "Okay. A little bedtime reading. Feels like being back in class again."


	5. Friendship

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne

[My buddy necrofish wins out. Slash it is. ;) You owe me a picture for the story, necrofish, remember that!]

* * *

Chapter 5: Friendship

"You were the embryo, right?"

Sephiroth nearly dropped his end of the piano. "What?"

Seifer compensated for Sephiroth's distraction, then guided the piano to its new position in the middle of the conservatory. He had to look inside to make sure it wasn't hollow, it had been so easy to lift. "In the experiments. You were Lucy's embryo."

Sephiroth nodded, blowing hair out of his eyes. "How did you know about that?"

"Read it in the basement library." Seifer dusted his hands off and walked over to check what could be salvaged of the bookcases.

Sephiroth chuckled. "You shouldn't have been down there. My father can get a little touchy about anyone disturbing his books."

Seifer shrugged. "He paid me back. He's pretty disturbing himself." He looked back to Sephiroth. "What's the story with him anyway? Big fan of Dracula or something?"

Sephiroth wiped cobwebs from his pant legs. "No. He's really not as spooky as he looks. He's a good man."

"Oh, yeah, sure, no problem. He just looks like a walking corpse is all."

"You don't understand." Sephiroth turned away.

"Maybe that's because nobody will tell me what's going on here. You two live here all by yourself in this creepy old house with secret passages and hidden basements and even if you're pretty regular he's definitely not your average dude and you expect me to just understand?"

Sephiroth sighed, dropping his head. "My father and I were mutated at opposite ends of the life line. Me before I was born and him..."

Seifer tilted his head, stepping up behind Sephiroth. "After he died?"

Sephiroth nodded. "Hojo revived him from death with the Jenova cells. After he'd murdered him. Only something happened. He was ripped out of the Lifestream when he was resurrected and it pulled other beings from somewhere back with him. Chaos is one of them. They're all trapped together in one body."

Seifer raised his brows. "Guess that would suck. He's not really a bad guy for being dead. Undead. Whatever he is."

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder. "He brought you here to save your life, even though it meant breaking his own morals about interfering with humanity. He saved my life, too. He was one of the ones who saved the entire planet."

"I believe you, okay? Don't judge by appearances." Seifer shook a chair to check its sturdiness before dropping down in it. "I get the feeling you're not all you seem, either. Hell, you don't even look twenty-seven."

"Twenty-two."

Seifer dropped his head to the side. "Vincent said you were born twenty-seven years ago."

"I spent five years in Jenova's control. I don't remember any of it and I didn't age then. I'm not sure if I'll ever age again. I don't think I've changed that much in the past two years."

"Eternal youth. A lot of people would sign up for that."

Sephiroth smiled. "Not you, though?"

Seifer shrugged. "I never thought about it, to tell you the truth. I'd guess that after the first century or so it would be boring as hell."

Sephiroth sat down on the floor, crossing his legs in a lotus position. "It probably will. I think the hardest part will be watching the rest of the world go on changing while I stay the same. Make friends only to watch them die."

"So you'll just shut yourself away in here with Vincent forever?"

"I don't know. I don't really have a choice at the moment." Sephiroth picked at his clothing.

"Hated by everyone outside because of what happened, even if it wasn't you who did it. Yeah, I know how that is. But I don't plan on letting it keep me out of life, keep me from finding my dream."

"And that is?" Sephiroth looked up at the blond. 

Seifer grinned. "Fame, renown, respect. I want people to look at me when I walk by and say 'That's Seifer Almasy, the best there is.' I thought I could get it by being a sorceress knight, but that didn't turn out so well."

"Oh, well, if that's all you want." Sephiroth laughed.

"What's your dream?"

"I don't know if I really have one. When I was growing up, all I had was destiny. Fame, renown, respect, I didn't even have to work at that. After all, I had a bit of an edge on the rest of the population. I guess... I guess my dream is that I could take back everything that happened with Jenova. I don't have to be a hero again. Just being accepted would be enough."

"In other words a fresh start. Clean slate."

Sephiroth smiled softly. "Isn't that what we both want?"

"I've got one in this world." Seifer shook his head. "But I still want to go home."

"You've got someone there waiting for you?"

Seifer was silent for a moment. Someone waiting for him. It was a nice thought, even if it wasn't true. There were only two people who had ever drawn his attention in that way and in a sad twist of irony, they had fallen in love with each other. One he had never dared to speak his feelings for, the other he had dated, but broken up with when she turned out to be too controlling. "Um, actually, not what you think. I've got a couple of friends who're probably freaked out without me to tell them what to do, but nobody special."

"Oh." Sephiroth smiled, then instantly blushed and cleared his throat. "I mean, that's too bad. I would have thought someone like you would have a romantic interest."

Seifer raised a brow, then snickered. "Damn, Sephiroth, need to get you out more often. Sounds like you're so lonely you're ready to hit on me."

"No!" Sephiroth frowned. "I mean, it's not like that. You're a guest and I don't know, maybe a friend. I was just curious."

Seifer smirked, rather enjoying seeing Sephiroth squirm. He'd often been accused of being a bully, but there was just something about glimpsing weakness in another person he couldn't resist. When he saw a button, he had to push it, see how far he could drive a person before they would fight back. "Curious about my love life or curious about me?"

"God." Sephiroth rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "It was just a question, Seifer."

Seifer narrowed his eyes, grabbing Sephiroth's wrist. "Answer me!"

Sephiroth seized Seifer's arm with his other hand, yanking him off the chair and dropping him to the floor so fast that Seifer had no chance to react, planting his knee on the blond's chest and his knuckles against his neck. "Don't push your luck, Seifer," he whispered. "If you don't want to take orders, don't go around giving them, either."

Seifer looked up into Sephiroth's hotly glowing eyes and nodded slowly. "So you were a soldier after all. Damn good one, too."

Sephiroth's expression of anger melted away, a flash of guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry." He sat back, letting Seifer up.

Seifer sat up, rubbing his arm. "It's not like you hurt me."

"I'm still sorry." Sephiroth spun up to his feet, running from the room.

"Sephiroth!" Seifer sighed, drawing one knee to his chest and dropping his head. "Great job, Almasy. Always have to play the asshole, don't you."

Seifer poked through his stir-fry at one end of the long dining table. Whatever kind of soldier Sephiroth had been he wasn't the world's greatest cook by any standard, but it was food and it was edible. He looked up as the chef entered the dining room with his own plate. "Hi."

"..Hi." Sephiroth glanced at Seifer before carrying his plate to the other end of the table and sitting down. 

Seifer sighed. That short speech had been all that had passed between him and Sephiroth since the incident in the conservatory. He wasn't sure if Sephiroth was angry at him or still feeling guilty, but the silent treatment was starting to drive him crazy. He pushed back from the table and stood, picking up his plate and walking down the length of the table. He set his plate down and took the seat next to Sephiroth's.

Sephiroth frowned. "What?"

"You have the soy sauce." Seifer reached for the bottle and seasoned his dinner, feeling those radient green eyes on him the entire time. "Want some?" He looked to his dinner companion, holding the bottle out to him.

"Not really." Sephiroth looked down at his plate and picked out a snow pea pod with his chopsticks.

Seifer rolled his eyes. "Fucking hell, you're another Squall when you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed." Sephiroth looked back up. ".. Who's Squall?"

Seifer smirked. "Jealous?" He quickly held up his hand at Sephiroth's glare. "I apologize, alright? Squall was someone I grew up with. Only guy who ever equalled me in fighting, but he was moody as hell. Liked to communicate in monosyllables. He had three phrases he could use for any situation that required more than that. 'Whatever,' 'None of your business,' and 'Not really.'"

"'Whatever' isn't a phrase. It's one word."

"He was picky like that, too."

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. "Is he still your friend or did you manage to drive him off?"

"I don't think we ever were friends. We were rivals." Seifer shrugged, poking through his plate for some chicken. "Did you have any friends or did you manage to get overly sensitive about anything they said?"

Sephiroth's shoulders sagged a bit. "No."

"No to which one?"

"No, I never had any friends, okay? I didn't exactly have a normal childhood. I grew up in a lab and a military base. I had comrades in arms, but I'm not sure that's the same thing." Sephiroth looked away. "..Do you really think I'm overly sensitive?"

Seifer offered another shrug. "I have a bad habit of being an asshole. I'll overlook your faults if you overlook mine."

Sephiroth glanced back with a half-smile. "I can't believe you just admitted to having a fault."

"Don't get used to it." Seifer grinned. "By the way, you can't cook."

Sephiroth pursed his lips. "Feel free to take over if you're any better at it."

Seifer pushed his plate away. "Actually, I was wondering if there was a pizza place anywhere near here."

"There's one in Nibelheim, I think. I don't go there."

"Who gets the groceries?"

"My father." Sephiroth chewed his lip. "He gets anything we need."

"You've been here for two years and you haven't left the house?" Seifer looked at the silver-haired man incredulously.

"Of course I have. I go monster hunting in the mountains sometimes with my father."

"That's it." Seifer got to his feet. "Give me some money. I'll be back in an hour."

Sephiroth furrowed his brow, getting up to get some cash out of the china hutch. "You're going to get a pizza?"

"No. I'm going to get what we'll need to get you out of here." Seifer offered a grin. "You need a night on the town."

Sephiroth furrowed his brow, but handed Seifer five twenty gil notes. "I can't go there, Seifer. I'm Sephiroth, remember?"

Seifer strode for the door. "Not tonight you won't be. Don't go anywhere."


	6. Excursion

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne 

* * *

Chapter 6: Excursion

Sephiroth rubbed a towel over his hair. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

Seifer leaned against the frame of Sephiroth's door. "Why wouldn't it? Everyone knows that Sephiroth has silver hair and besides that, he's dead, right?"

Sephiroth pulled the towel down and surveyed the effects of the wash-out auburn hair dye Seifer had brought back with him. He had to admit, he wasn't even sure he recognized his own reflection. "I guess so." He sighed and pulled his hair back into a ponytail, then walked out of his bathroom. "Well?"

Seifer grinned. "Doesn't look a thing like you. Here, put these on." He held out a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

Sephiroth slid them on, effectively hiding any hint of his mako eyes. "I can't believe I'm letting you talk me into this."

"You don't have a choice." Seifer slid on his own pair of shades and walked out. "Come on. Pizza and beer and people. I'm not letting you hide here like a chickenwuss."

Sephiroth followed with a sigh. "I don't even like beer."

Sephiroth looked up as Seifer set their dinner on the red checkered tablecloth.

"One large pizza with everything, a pitcher of beer, and," Seifer paused to smirk, "a carafe of white wine."

"Excuse me if I have taste." Sephiroth poured himself a glass and took a sip. "..Not that this is good wine."

Seifer sat down on the opposite bench of the booth and filled his own glass. "Are you going to complain all night?"

"I just don't see why we really had to leave the house for this." Sephiroth glanced around the room. "The only other people here are the employees and that family with the kids who keep throwing toppings at each other."

"Okay," Seifer conceded, "it's not exactly a wild party. I can't help it if this is a dead town."

Sephiroth chuckled, taking a slice of pizza and picking off the pepperoni and sausage. "It's quiet."

Seifer eyed Sephiroth's napkin. "I can't believe you'd let pepperoni and sausage go to waste."

"Maybe I'm just storing up ammunition to throw at you."

Seifer snorted. "At least it will be the things that taste the best." He picked up a slice and bit into it, drawing back a bridge of cheese. He watched Sephiroth follow suit, trying to be neater about the entire endeavor. "Just eat it. That's what napkins are for."

Sephiroth chewed and swallowed. "You've got sauce on your chin."

Seifer grabbed a napkin and hurriedly wiped it off. "And now I don't. So is it this dead everywhere?"

"Quiet," corrected Sephiroth, then shrugged. "The big cities are mostly rebuilding. They were the first targets of the Weapons. Rocket Town is the closest one, but it was as quiet as Nibelheim until after the Weapons. One of my father's friends took over as mayor there and turned it into real city."

Seifer grinned. "Road trip. Sounds like the place to visit."

Sephiroth sighed. "You're not willing to stay in one place for long, are you."

"I like a little action, there's nothing wrong with that." Seifer took a drink from his beer glass. "Maybe we can even drag old Vinny out of the cobwebs."

Sephiroth wrinkled up his nose. "He hates being called Vinny."

"I won't say it in front of him then. So are we on?"

Sephiroth sighed. "I guess I do miss traveling. Before everything happened it was a new place every week."

"Cool. Road trip." Seifer nodded with finality, then looked over as the door to the pizzeria opened, a young woman with long brown hair striding in with a highly unusual companion, a waist-high stuffed moogle of nearly global proportions, a robotic black cat sitting on top of its head. "The fuck..?"

Sephiroth looked over, then ducked his head down quickly. "Tifa Lockheart and Cait Sith," he whispered. "She's the mayor here."

Seifer raised a brow. "What's with the cat and the moogle?"

"Shh. Keep it down." Sephiroth sighed. "Her boyfriend is mayor of Midgar, so they don't get to spend a lot of time together. He's an engineer and he made Cait Sith. He can talk through it and keep in touch that way."

"That's.. bizarre." Seifer looked at the young woman as she turned away from the counter, letting her odd sidekick finish making their order. "She's coming this way."

Sephiroth sank down in his seat. "Oh no."

Seifer cast him a grin. "Relax, will you? You're acting suspicious." He turned his attention back to Tifa and nodded a greeting. Sephiroth groaned softly and tried to act casual.

"Hello." Tifa offered a friendly smile. "I don't recognize you and I know everyone in town. Tourists?"

"Sort of." Seifer offered his hand. "I'm Seifer Almasy, this is Steve.. Steve Whiner." Seifer's smile betrayed a touch of a wince as Sephiroth kicked him under the table.

"Pleased to meet you." Tifa shook Seifer's hand. "I'm Mayor Lockheart, but you can just call me Tifa. Everyone does. Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, fine." Seifer rubbed his shin. "Old soccer injury."

"Oh." Tifa smiled again, then looked at Sephiroth, tilting her head. "Have we met before, Steve? There's something familiar about you."

"No!" Sephiroth swallowed, picking up his wineglass and drinking half the contents down.

Seifer grinned. "You might know his uncle. We're visiting him as a matter of fact. Vincent Valentine?" Seifer endured another kick, this time returning it.

Tifa's face lit up. "Oh, Vincent! Of course I know him! I never knew he had a nephew. You both have soccer injuries?"

"Played on the same team." Seifer planted his feet on top of Sephiroth's. "Don't mind him. He gets nervous around pretty women."

Tifa blushed with a laugh while Sephiroth just blushed. "Flattery is a bad habit, Seifer." She looked to the side as Cait Sith bounced his way over, spilling half the pitcher of beer on the way. "Looks like my dinner is ready." She gave both men a grin. "It was nice meeting you. Tell your uncle not to be such a stranger, Steve. I live two miles from him, it's not like he can't come visit more often."

"We'll be sure to pass on the message." Seifer nodded in reply to Tifa's little wave as she took the pitcher from Cait Sith to salvage any chance of a drink and followed the toy to a table.

Sephiroth yanked his feet out from under Seifer's. "You enjoyed that," he hissed.

"Will you stop being such a pisspot? Nothing happened." Seifer leaned back, drinking his beer.

Sephiroth sighed in defeat. "Steve Whiner?"

"It seemed to fit. Eat your pizza, Steve."

"Admit it, you had fun."

Sephiroth lifted his eyes from the road at his feet as they walked back to the mansion. ".. I had fun. Are you always that competitive?"

Seifer laughed, his eyes flashing more brightly for a moment without the sunglasses for disguise. "Only when it comes to fighting, sports, and whack-a-mole. Okay, maybe I'm a little competitive, but I won."

"Only because you broke the machine."

"Is that a challenge to a rematch?" Seifer looked sideways at Sephiroth, raising his brow.

Sephiroth grinned, opening the gate and holding it for the blond. "Any time you feel up to it. Of course, since we broke the one here, we'll have to take a detour on that road trip. I've always wanted to go to the Gold Saucer. I hear they have an incredible battle arena."

"Battle arena, huh? Sounds fun." Seifer strode through, Sephiroth following after trying unsuccessfully to close the gate without it creaking. "How far of a detour?"

"It's only across the mountain pass. We could spend a day there, then go to Rocket Town." He grinned to Seifer as they entered the mansion. "Thanks, Seifer. I had a wonderful time."

Seifer smirked, leaning back against the door as he closed it. "Sound like you're expecting a goodnight kiss."

Sephiroth frowned. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant it was nice not feeling like a prisoner of my own past. I got to be around people, even if I wasn't really me."

Seifer's smirk softened to a smile. "Hey, what are friends for?" He ran his hand through his hair, a few moments of expectant silence hanging between the two before Seifer looked away. "I'm tired. See you in the morning, Steve." He started up the stairs.

Sephiroth sighed softly. "Goodnight, Seifer." He made his way to the library, not quite ready for sleep himself. Is this the way all friends felt about each other? He wasn't used to this sort of relationship, but then again he'd never known anyone like Seifer. One moment he could be arrogant, overbearing, and irritating, the next moment those same qualities seemed to be confidence, protectiveness, and affectionate teasing. Sephiroth ran his fingers over a row of books, looking for one he hadn't ready three times already, wondering if they'd accepted a guest into their home or a tornado. The calm he had settled into during the past two years with Vincent had been overturned in a matter of two days.

"Where have you been?" Vincent's soft question was as usual completely unannounced by warning sounds of approach. Sephiroth turned, a smile crossing his face as his eyes met those of the older man.

"Seifer took me out." Vincent's silently arched brow made Sephiroth consider his phrasing. He dropped his eyes. "Not like that. It wasn't a date or anything. We just went into town for pizza."

"I see. What happened to your hair?"

Sephiroth pushed his bangs out of his eyes. "It'll wash out. But it worked. Not even Tifa Lockheart recognized me." Sephiroth waited for a rebuke, a reminder of the risks he had taken in venturing out in public, but Vincent only nodded. "We're going to the Gold Saucer and then Rocket Town. Do you want to come?"

Vincent smiled a touch. "I guess it's time you started having fun again. You never had a childhood to begin with."

Sephiroth laughed. "It's a little late to have one now. Come with us, father? Please?"

"Why? Because I'm one of the heroes and can get you in for free?" Vincent took a step closer. "Or is it because you don't want to be alone with him?"

"What do you mean? We're friends." Sephiroth chuckled. "I'm not afraid of him. I'm stronger than he is."

Vincent studied the shelves, silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, his voice was not as cold as usual. "I waited too long to be honest with my feelings, Sephiroth. I lost the woman that I loved because I was afraid to tell her what was in my heart. Don't make the same mistake."

Sephiroth swallowed. "We're just friends, father."

Vincent turned his ruby eyes on Sephiroth, his expression still, but his gaze seeming to penetrate to the younger man's soul. "Don't waste your chance for happiness."

Sephiroth bit his lip, looking down. By the time he lifted his eyes again, Vincent was gone.


	7. Contest

The Chaos Connection  
by NightsDawne 

* * *

Chapter 7: Contest

Sephiroth tossed and turned in his bed, trying to get to sleep. He'd never had a problem with it before. The discipline of a soldier carried through every aspect of his life, right down to his sleeping cycle. He growled softly in irritation with himself and sat up to unwind the sheets from his legs, then flopped back against the pillow, dropping the backs of his hands against his forehead. It was him. He just couldn't get him out of his thoughts.

Hopeless of forcing himself to rest, Sephiroth gave in, letting his mind explore the path it wanted. His breath slipped from his lips, tickling them softly, making him wonder what it would be like if Seifer had kissed him goodnight as he had teased. Seifer's mouth, like every part of him, seemed to have been molded from the ideal of masculine beauty. Strong, usually held in that confident smirk that was as annoying as it was enticing, full lower lip parted from the cupid's bow of his upper lip, revealing the straight edge of white teeth. It was a constant dare, that smile, a challenge to try to take on the wearer, an implication that anyone who took it up would find themselves lost before they tried. Sephiroth was even subject to its effect, a tremble of intimidation like nothing he had ever known leaving him in uncertainty, as if his superior strength and experience would mean nothing in the end. That in and of itself was enough to tempt him, although not to fight.

He tried to picture what Seifer's eyes must have looked like before they were altered by the mako energy. Somehow he knew they would be no less intense for lacking the glow of a Soldier's gaze. It wasn't mako that fueled the fire in the blond. He would have been a troublemaker in the ranks of Shinra's troops, too independent, too rebellious, but it would be a mistake to have him on the opposing side. He was a natural leader and just as naturally a renegade, his only loyalty to himself and whatever code he held himself to. Only the rules he made for himself would be acceptable to him.

Sephiroth wondered who had had the daring and the skill to leave the scar that ran between Seifer's eyes. It had to be Squall, the one that Seifer had compared him to at the dining table. As he thought about it, he had difficulty deciding if the comparison had been mockery or compliment. Like everything else Seifer said, it seemed designed to leave one off guard, unsure where they stood, as if even friendship was a competition and the blond was determined to have the edge. It was a game Sephiroth realized he was being drawn into in spite of himself, wanting to win the younger man's approval, his trust, wanting to be allowed past that wall of self-assurance and arrogance. Seifer had already made the rules. To win, Sephiroth would have to lose, have to give in and let Seifer be the leader, but if he gave in too easily, he would be tossed aside as too weak to pass muster. It was irritating to be toyed with in such a way, but exciting, almost dangerous. It had been a long time since Sephiroth had tasted danger.

His mind drifted unbidden into the memories of removing Seifer's ripped and burned clothing, of washing the dried blood from that muscular body. Seifer obviously took care of himself, his body the toned and flawless tool of a fighter. He wasn't massive, or bulky, but powerful, the epitome of masculine grace. Sephiroth had the same build as Vincent, light, quick, not lacking in height or strength, but slender, bordering on delicate. Seifer, on the other hand, looked every inch a warrior, hard, unyielding, like granite. There was no deception about his skills in battle. The fire of his soul even seemed to radiate from him physically, his skin so warm to the touch Sephiroth had feared him feverish. Sephiroth closed his eyes, feeling again that golden heat under his fingertips, the thought bringing on erotic pleasure that spread across his body, his lips parting in surrender to his longing.

Sephiroth pulled his thoughts into check quickly, shocked at where they were heading. Admiration of his friend's aesthetics was one thing, but why was he succumbing to this kind of desire? Not even women had gotten past his strict focus, and certainly not another man. It wasn't like there hadn't been opportunities when he had been a general for Shinra. There had been no lack of handsome and even willing men, but Sephiroth's discipline had kept him from interest in sensual pleasures. It had to be Seifer's teasing. It was part of the game. Seifer was trying to make him question their relationship, presenting himself as so desirable that not even other men could resist him. Sephiroth sat up, temptation fading into vexation. He was not going to let Seifer simply lead him down whatever path he chose as if he had no will of his own.

_I waited too long to be honest with my feelings, Sephiroth. I lost the woman that I loved because I was afraid to tell her what was in my heart. Don't make the same mistake. Don't waste your chance for happiness._ Sephiroth frowned as his father's words came back to him. Even Vincent thought that Sephiroth's feelings for Seifer were beyond friendship? He would have to keep his guard up more carefully. But what exactly were his feelings? Obviously Seifer's tactics had worked, so he had to admit there was the possibility of some kind of attraction that the blond had capitalized on. Still, physical attraction was a long way from love. He had only known Seifer for two days, after all.

He chewed his lip, trying to figure out Vincent's reasons for sharing such advice. Vincent hardly ever spoke of Sephiroth's mother, Lucretia. He had confessed early on that it was possible that he had been the one who had gotten her pregnant, and assured Sephiroth that he would never have consented to do so for the sake of science, that the times they had spent together had been love, at least on his part. Sephiroth preferred to think that he had been conceived of something more than experimental interest, and he couldn't deny his physical resemblance to Vincent. If the choices were to think that his father was the former Turk or the mad scientist Hojo, Vincent had no competition. Vincent's love for Lucretia was still palpable, even through his cold and unfeeling exterior. Love had only led to tragedy and grief for his father, and yet he was equating it to happiness, urging Sephiroth to seek it out. And it was clear he thought Sephiroth was leaning toward Seifer. But could he love a man? Even if he did, what good would it do? Seifer couldn't be expected to return such feelings.

Sephiroth sighed in exasperation. It was clear that having friends cut into one's sleep if nothing else. He tossed the covers aside and stood, pulling on his pants, then reached for Masamune. If his thoughts would not let him get some rest, he would at least subdue them with the familiar routine of a kata, turn them to the well-known paths of combat. He made his way out of his room and down the stairs, experience helping him to avoid the loudest steps so he wouldn't wake the others. He slipped into the kitchen, the stone floor giving him a silent place to work. He let the darkness hide him, drew his mind into focus, and stepped into the graceful dance of death.

Seifer awoke, still breathing hard from his dream, the visions still clear in his mind's eye, his hand still at his groin where even in sleep his body had longed to satisfy in reality what was going on in fantasy. It had been nothing short of animalistic lust, his body crushed against Sephiroth's, their kisses suffocating attempts at appeasing their mutual hunger. He moaned quietly at the ache that radiated from his hips, his stomach muscles taut from subconscious rocking that had mimicked his taking of the silver-haired beauty.

He closed his hand around his erection, bringing himself to the release that would ease the pain, not caring at what kind of a mess he would leave. So he would volunteer to do the laundry, it wouldn't arouse suspicion and he needed to get it out of his system before he fell to the temptation to exercise his fantasies fully. He groaned quietly, every muscle tightening, fire burning every nerve in his body. His mind easily filled in Sephiroth's body against his, long delicate fingers that hid the strength inside them replacing his own as he quickened his stroking, his back arching as he came, leaving his skin tingling with bliss.

He sagged weakly against the mattress, his limbs fatigued. The soaked sheet cooling in the night air only mirrored the emotional coldness as the illusion of a lover next to him melted away to intangibility, loneliness cutting through the pleasure painfully. His body insistently called for sleep, but emotions interfered, shattering the wall of boldness that kept him from despising himself. He wanted nothing more than for the dream to have been real, to have the comfort of another body next to his, to feel Sephiroth's arms around him, soft kisses of shared passion easing him to slumber, but instead he was alone, driven to the pathetic recourse of masturbation to give him even a moment's illusion of intimacy.

He gathered his strength and sat up, wiping his chest, then throwing the sheet off of the bed in disgust. He got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, snaps of floorboards accompanying his steps. He endured the freezing chill of the cold water from his sink to clean himself off, fully wakened by the shock to his skin. Why couldn't he just tell Sephiroth that he wanted him? He had picked up the cues, had seen the attraction in Sephiroth's eyes, but rather than responding to it with a confession of his own feelings he had used it to his advantage, taunted him, angered him.

He had done the same thing to Squall, tortured him until there was nothing but enmity and rivalry between them, no chance of anything soft or tender. Why? Because he didn't want anyone else to find out his secret, his attraction to other men. He sacrificed his feelings and Squall's to keep his front intact. He'd spent enough of his time regretting his lost opportunity with the boy with the enchanting stormy gaze and now he was throwing away yet another chance to feel loved. If only Sephiroth would make the first move he could justify being with him, but he couldn't bear the fear of making himself vulnerable, of offering love only to have it rejected.

Not yet ready to go back to bed and deal with introspection, he put on his pants and slipped out of the room, doing his best to keep from treading heavily on the noisy floors. Perhaps he could replace companionship with a glass of milk and cold leftovers. It might taste lousy, but Sephiroth had made it. Just thinking about Sephiroth's sad attempts at cooking a decent meal helped restore a touch of his confidence, his lips twitching into a smile as his feet felt the cold flagstone of the kitchen floor. He reached for the light switch and flipped it on, already narrowing his eyes against the glare.

Sephiroth spun around, Masamune's blade dragging across the stone and sending up sparks. "Shit!" His eyes narrowed from their shocked expression. "What are you doing wandering around in the middle of the night?"

Seifer raised a brow. "Looking for something to eat. Which, I might add, is a little less suspicious than swinging a sword around in the dark."

Sephiroth looked down at his blade, his cheeks flushing. "I.. well, I needed to practice and I wasn't tired."

"Don't let me stop you." Seifer strode over to the refrigerator and opened it, getting out the milk and his unfinished stir-fry.

Sephiroth pursed his lips, laying Masamune on a counter. "I'm done. I thought you hated my cooking."

"I'm hoping it's evolved in the cold." Seifer leaned against the counter, taking a drink straight from the carton, then broke into a laugh at Sephiroth's look of disgust. "There's only enough in here for one glass anyway. It's not like I'm going to put it back."

"It's the principle of the thing. What if I wanted some, too?"

Seifer held the carton out. "I don't backwash, if that's what you're worried about. Hell, you bled in my mouth and you're worried about drinking from the same carton as me?"

"That was to save your life." Sephiroth stepped over to take the offered carton, though, lifting it to his lips, trying to resist thinking about Seifer's lips having touched it moments before. He reached around Seifer to set it on the counter behind him, frowning as Seifer shifted his weight so that his bare ribs brushed the inside of Sephiroth's wrist. He couldn't tell if it was accidental or yet another attempt to get him to question himself. He withdrew his hand quickly, refusing to let the blond get a rise out of him. "Is the stir-fry any better now?"

"No, just colder." Seifer ate another mouthful, his eyes on Sephiroth, teasing. He smirked and offered some to Sephiroth, holding the chopsticks poised above the plate.

"It can't be that bad." Sephiroth accepted the sample, chewing thoughfully, then frowned as he swallowed. "Okay, maybe it can."

Seifer snickered, setting the plate down to grab the milk again. "Maybe you have some cookies or something stashed around here. I can't believe you survive on that stuff."

Sephiroth nodded, stepping to the side to rifle through a cupboard. "They might be a little old. I don't have much of a sweet tooth and my father doesn't eat much."

"I didn't think he ate at all. Haven't seen him at the table once." Seifer tipped the carton back.

"His metabolism is different. He eats maybe once every three days or so, but he drinks all the time."

"Like hits the sauce?"

Sephiroth chuckled. "No. He barely even touches wine. I mean like ordinary drinks. He's got this thing for Sprite you wouldn't believe."

"Ah, so that's his stash in the fridge. I'll keep clear." Seifer reached for the half-empty package of Oreos Sephiroth held out. "Oreos and milk. Makes me feel like a kid." He set the milk down to twist open a cookie, licking the cream off, watching the other man.

Sephiroth forgot what he was going to say in reply and merely stared with a half-open mouth at the seductive way that Seifer handled the cookie. It wasn't helping that Seifer was shirtless and he was as well. _What are you thinking? He's just eating a cookie. It doesn't mean anything. _Sephiroth shook his head, turning away. "You can finish them off if you want. I'm going to bed."

"Jealous of a cookie?" Seifer's taunting voice as always filled Sephiroth with a paradox of irritation and enticement. Why did he keep teasing him? It was becoming exhausting trying to keep up in the game, like combat with an opponent who refused to strike outright, who chose to wear down with feints, searching for weaknesses, yet Sephiroth couldn't think of giving up. If he did, Seifer would lose all respect for him, perhaps not even want to be his friend anymore.

"I wouldn't want to interfere in your relationship. I'm sure it will be one of your longer ones." He strode from the room, picking up Masamune without looking back.

"Ouch. You're getting better, Sephy," whispered Seifer. "Show no mercy."


End file.
